Tombstone epitaph., 1887-09-24
AN APPLE WOMAN'S STORY

Thim's three cints apiece, sur, two fur five cints-Baldwins they are-the pick of the bar'l, an as sound as ever growed. Thank ye, sir. Am I doing a good busi- ness? In gineral, dv-there be hapes of folks comes to these offices, an they buys liberal, but today it's dirty an sloppy, an they're all in hurry. It's good stand I have, amy way, God be praisedl an av I wor taken sick have enough in the bank to nurse an to bury me daycent, without axin' charity. An my good luck all kem suddin.
 It must be an interestin' storyf We'll, dunno; but don't mind tellin' av you care to listen. You see, Mickey McAvoy an had been married six years an we had but one by, but he was fine one, an industrious, an ambitious of ownin' a farm out in the west, where they do be givin' lem away, av you've the names to stock thim an git to thim-for he'd been brought up on big farm on the ovid sod beyant But it wasn't to be.
 The by he tux sick wan day wid the dipthery an in spite of all the doctor could do--sorra the little they kin do whin yer times come-he died The heart was bruk O me, but Mickey tux it harder, an' that's sayin' @ dale, seein' that I was the b'y's mother. The day after the funeral Mickey had to go to work or lose job, an, whether it was wid the sorrow or what, poor Mickey's fut slipped on the ladder, an him nigh to the top, an' they brought him home dead.
 We'd saved somethin' betune us--he wid the hod and I wid the washin'-but what wid the funeral--an' illigant it was, twelve carriages an a cashkit, to say nothin' of lashin's of the best at the wake -I had but tin dollars an some cints left, an cast around to do somethin' to kape the life in me, for was too worn out for the washin'. So got 8 basket an filled it with apples an paynuts an wint roun' to the offices to sell lem. An did well, too. The young clarks'd buy the apples sometimes, an the janitors an office b'ys the paynuts, an I made out to pay the rint of my room an to get the bite an the sup.
 Wan day whin I kem home Mrs. Fin nerty, who lived on the flure below an whose husband is brick mason, sez to me, sez she: "Did you hear that noise las' night, O groanin' in the room back 70 yep q didn't" sez I, ''av it was in the night, for slape sound" "Wer, she sez, fits the gerril>that runs the sewin' machine" she sez, 'an' she's sick an I've been there to-day, an will ye help little to-nightP' she sez, flor I've the baby to mind." "I will" sez I, an did. The gerril's name was Cherry Bashford, an dacent she was, for lone, dissholute orf1an, an kept herself alone an meddled an made w1d no wan. The doctor kem, an she soon got well O the cold an the faver, an she an got quite friendly, though she was @ lady bred, poor as she was, any one could see that, an as for beauty, the ladies ye see in them carriages on the strates couldn't hould candle to her. An she always called me Mrs. Mo- Avoy. It was never "Biddy" wid her, sir, which is not the way to spake to a widdy wid a good character.
 We got quite frien'ly, as said, an wan day said to her, sez I, Miss Bashford, you do be lonely up there in yer room," eez, "an' what'd all ye about movin' your machine into my room-there's @ dure betune us, and ye'd be company" sez I. "But," sez she, "though I'm much obliged to ye, won't; but we'll kape the dure open in daytime, an I'll kape an eye on your room whin yer away" So frien'ly did we git, an she @ born lady, as said before.
 Wan day kem to- this very buildin' wid my basket, an in goes to wan office an another, an in to MT. Gaskells, him as owns the buildin'. I was known by the clarks, who always bought from me, an' Master George, the masters only son, though he was a sort of head clark, would by like the rest, and he had great hs-bit of jokin' with me. But that day tLe ovid gintlemin happened to hear him in his office, an he kem out in @ high tinper an sez he to me, "You kape out O here wid your basket, for you day. moralize the clerks from their business" "As you blaze, sir, ," sez I, bowld enough, though it was two dollars a week out O my pocket, an out I wint. Master George, he was angry, an gev me a quarter, an said he'd buy of me whin he had chance. And I was so Hurried wid the cantankerous ovid gintleman-but it's Q good man he is, for all that-that I dropped cross that I keep about me for luck-it kem from Rome an was blessed by the holy father himself, an I niver missed it till got home.
 had just got off the dishes from the table, an was clearin' up from my bit of tay, an Miss Bashford, who had come in from her room, was talkin' wid me, whin ther was @ rap at the dure, an whin said "Come in" who should march into the room but George, as bowld as brass, wid my cross. "You dropped this in the Office," he saz tan as I knew where ye lived thought I'd bring it to ye, an'-" wid that he stared like stuck pig at Miss Bashford, an, ye may belave me, whin looked at her she was as white as the wall. "Cherryp' sez he. "Mr. Gaskell," sez she. An they begun to talk, an a-clatterin' the dishes an a-droppin' the knives so as not to be knowin' to their discoorse. But I gethered enough to know that it's lovers they'd been, but she he'd drapt him bekase he was rich an she was poor; an it's drapt he wouldn't be, not he.
 After that George 'ud kape comin' roun' to my room on some raison or other, three nights in the wake, an it distrest Miss Cherry as much as it biased her. "For," sez she to me, "Mrs McAvoy, his father is wantin' him to marry rich an' av we wor to be married he would be ruined entirely" But I only laughed at that to myself Sure it's the way with young girls, an ispishully whin ther ladies bred as Miss Bashford was.
 An SO it kept goin' on until wan even- fn', when ther' kem a rap at the dure at the time was expectin' tn see George, an I sez, Come imp an Miss Cherry's eyes frightened, an who should walk in but the ovid gintleman, Mr. Gaskell, himself. Ow! WOW! sez to myself. His eyes snapped, but he was as polite as a dancin' master. ''Miss Bashford," sez he, 'I presume" payin' no attention to